Limbo?
A hockey stick was a much more elegant weapon than a baseball bat.
"This is called checking into the boards," Rodney instructed Ronon as he pushed the big man's head into the glass.
Rodney skated off effortlessly to make a loop around the rink. He skated back over to his teammate picking up speed.
"This is a hook." He took the end of the stick and pulled Ronon over by the waist. Ronon scrambled to get back up. Rodney deliberately skated around the rink again. And again he returned to Ronon.
"And this is a trip." He looped his stick around his teammate's ankle and lifted. The back of Ronon's head smacked the ice. Rodney came to a classic hockey stop right next to Ronon's prone form.
"And this is called a slice." Rodney brought his skate down right into Ronon's face.
He grasped his chin and struck a thoughtful pose. "Oh wait, that's a golf term." He looked back down at his handiwork. "Ew, looks like that smarts."
Sheppard banged his fists on the glass while whooping and hollering from the stands.
Rodney held his stick over his head in victory.
What a thrill.
His eyes flew open again as his breath caught in his throat.
A new, yet familiar face came into view.
"K-Kate, the dreams Kate, they're back."
"I know Rodney. You were talking in your sleep." Heightmeyer gave him a warm, comforting smile. "It's understandable Rodney. You witnessed what you thought was the death of your team."
"So it's true, I wasn't hallucinating?" A moment of relief flickered on his face. But he knew there had to be more.
"No, no hallucinations. They are in a suspended state- neither alive nor dead. The medical staff is still running tests. They are right over there behind those screens." Kate pointed to a blocked off area of the infirmary. She grabbed a chair and sat down next to the bed. "They need your help. What do you remember?"
He closed his eyes and searched. It was there and it was not part of those dreams.
"We left early, just after midnight. We were being followed by something after we left the village. It knew we were there so we made a run for it. Glaringly obvious it didn't work. Never let a barbarian dictate strategy."
"Something grabbed Sheppard and hung him in the air. I wanted to laugh and tell him turn about is fair play. I knew better; so I went to grab his arm to help him and something threw me back the way we came. I landed and it took me a few seconds to gain my bearings. Then Sheppard lands right in front of me."
Rodney stopped for a moment. "Kate, he was…scared. I looked him right in the eye and tried to reach for him. Something took a hold of my forearm and snapped it like a twig. By the way, that hurt...a lot. Then we were both pulled back into the air. A…a…voice…"
Rodney just sat there.
"Rodney take your time." Heightmeyer waited patiently.
"A voice told me, 'not a warrior' and I was thrown back down the path. It took me a very long time to get back to them." He frowned and his eyes darted everywhere but at her. "I was too late."
"Something grabbed you? You could not see it?" She studied his face intently; he was still trying to make sense out of the event.
"Like a ghost or a poltergeist. It could move solid matter easily." He started cogitating and his eyes darted around the room even faster. "Probably some sort of magnetic or electrical field. There are no such things as ghosts of course but it could have been some technology we have not come across yet or a variation on some we have."
Heightmeyer nodded and kept her face neutral. "Do you know what happened to put them in this state of limbo?"
"It is limbo isn't it? Not much on that type of thing but your analogy is a good one." He tried to sit up.
"Here let me help." She raised the bed up to a reclined seated position.
"No, I was pretty much out cold after the whatever tossed me. All I heard was Sheppard…Well, all I heard was Sheppard screaming and then nothing after I hit the ground."
"You also mentioned your team left early. What happened?" She kept her demeanor calm and her voice level. She was anything but.
"Someone attacked Ronon and Sheppard at the little four star slum they called a hotel. I think they tried to strangle them or something. I didn't get the whole story, no time." He finally settled his gaze on her, "That whole running for your life thing."
She gave him a placating smile and said, "Very good Rodney."
He gave her a soured glare in return and grumbled, "Don't patronize me. I'm not a puppy to be given a treat because I did a trick."
"I'm sorry, you're right. I didn't mean for it to come out that way." She looked embarrassed.
"I haven't totally regressed. I saw Teyla and Ronon after I crawled back; I guess they went through something similar. It's just very terrifying to be unable to fight back or to see your friend tossed like a doll. The whatevers left me to die or suffer or I don't know. There was nothing we could do."
"You felt powerless. Your team was powerless. That is something hard to accept. It was like when you had no control with the Wraith mind." Heightmeyer cocked her head and waited for his reaction to her last statement.
He just nodded.
She continued. "Tell me about some of the dreams."
"Oh you know, the same old, same old. Murder, apathy and perversion, I'm supposed to help humanity not extinguish it." He wrung his hands and tried to look casual. "This last one had a hockey motif. I wonder if my subconscious is just upset that the Stanley Cup was won by a team from Florida. Florida for God's sake! A team from Canada lost to a team from Florida. It doesn't even snow in Florida. Unbelievable."
"Maybe Rodney, but you know better than that."
"Yeah I know." He released his hands and slumped against his pillows. "I know."
Heightmeyer looked him in the eyes. "Don't try and hide from yourself, Rodney."
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The rest of Rodney's team was trying to come to terms with their new anti-life.
Sheppard was darkly contemplative. He had not noticed the lack of breathing, the lack of hunger, the lack of a heartbeat or the lack of any other body functions. He had not even noticed that he was thinking out loud and not using his mouth.
Soon after their little discovery of being apparitions- for lack of a better term- the young priest replaced them in the glowing red cubes. They had been reduced to toys. Now kids put away your dolls, trucks, blocks and Atlantis team members.
He was officially freaked out. He could not think of a way out of this situation. Situation- ha! - This was a catastrophe. They were otherworldly impressions of their former selves. This was akin to a rape. Forcibly removed from their bodies and imprisoned in their own little cubicles of damnation with nothing but their morose thoughts to keep them company. He had no control.
It was enough to make him wish he was really dead.
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Teyla was in a similar line of reflection. This was worse than being culled. It was a half-life, one she had not consented to. This existence was constricting; she needed the open space. This little box was far from the great open sky on Athos or Atlantis' home planet. Her future removed and replaced with this farce.
She would handle this, at least she hoped she would. She hoped Col. Sheppard could handle this. Ronon was a different matter. He had already confessed to not being able to just sit and wait. This would definitely be a challenge to his nature. She hoped he would not go mad from the confinement.
She had to place her faith in Atlantis that they would come looking. If they did not, she would rather be released into the hereafter than remain here. This was no way to not live or not die.
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And if Ronon could hear Teyla, he would so totally agree. He had eluded the Wraith for seven years and now he had been captured without so much as a fight.
The things that had stalked them had been good, silent, and efficient. One blocked their way and then he was airborne until a tree stopped him. The force made his head crack against the trunk and his ribs were definitely injured. He was held against the tree unable to fight or move or breathe for that matter.
He could not see anyone else but he could hear Sheppard and McKay. He could also hear a scuffle to his left, he guessed Teyla. Anger welled up and he could do nothing. Then a priest jabs him with the pronged fork thing and he knew why Sheppard had cried out. He was not about to give these people that satisfaction. He had endured torture by the Wraith and never called out. This was no different.
Now he was trapped in a small box in a sea of red. This was at the top of his list as a form of hell. He could not pace; he could not throw anything; he could not growl; and he could not even yell. He could only float and think. He could not stand this. Seven years of running had not driven him insane, anti-social maybe, but not insane. This definitely would.
He needed to move. He needed to move. He needed to move. He needed to move.
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A/N: Thank you for all the feedback, I'm in utter shock! Now we have had everyone's account, I guess it's time to move like Ronon wants to do. So please review and let the team know you care!